Guide to the Fallen

Introduction

Anubis to the Egyptians and Charon to the Greeks; angels to the Christians and valkyries to the Norse. All are psychopomps and for a time, the Grim Reaper covered for them all. Throughout history, they guided the dead to their chosen realms. Then, it seemed they disappeared. In the First Modern Era, while space travel stayed near to Earth and only a chosen few made the journeys, religion vanished and humanity dismissed psychopomps as nothing beyond primitive myth.

Mankind, we who had dwelled so long on Earth, no longer needed guides to find residence in the afterlife; for so long had we made that trek that the route was ingrained upon our minds. The paths around the horrors and traps that would have us spend eternity locked between the worlds of the dead and of the living were as instinct in our subconscious mind, and it stayed with our souls as we departed this world.

Then, hundreds of years ago, mankind truly discovered space travel.

Once more the fallen need a guide, for the vastness of space is still unexplored. The paths between worlds are not yet known, and so we must humble ourselves and call upon the psychopomp that has guided humanity throughout history; yes, he is but one eternal being, everlasting and called many names by many people, but he has always been there. And now he returns, forgiving the pride of those who had believed they would never need him again. Aurgur we call him, now, or Death Light; indeed, that is his job, lighting the paths of the dead.

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Endless night, dotted here and there with glimmering stars. Two or three golden nebulae drifted innocently. One patch of sky grew dark as a ship passed over, blotting out the light.

'And this is why I joined the Outer Navy,' Ensign Admeri Tryst thought, staring out from the bridge of the cruiser Guidance. After another moment's reverie, he turned back to his sensors. He gasped. Two dozen flashing red dots had appeared on the screen, and more appeared each instant.

"Captain! An enemy fleet just dropped from--"

That was the extent of the Guidance's warning. The night erupted with the flashes of enemy lasers, and before the ship could raise its shields, a blast ruptured the viewport. The glass exploded and the ensign heard a few seconds of rushing air before he was sucked, along with the rest of the crew, into the vacuum. For a moment, he watched the stars spin by; then breath would not come, his vision clouded, and with a freezing taste in his mouth, his mind faded into a swollen pain. 

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